


Foresight

by Lethe (PersephonePenguin), PersephonePenguin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephonePenguin/pseuds/Lethe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephonePenguin/pseuds/PersephonePenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story based on the fact that we don't know Belle's name in Storybrooke. Intended to be tongue in cheek. Has the obvious possibility been overlooked?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foresight

**Author's Note:**

> This may not be everyone's cup of tea in terms of humour, but I had to write it. Sorry in advance. Its unbeta'd and my spellchecker wasn't playing ball on the tablet, so I'm owning up to any spelling mistakes you find. 
> 
> This is an experiement, I wanted to try my hand at humour, I don't know if I like it much, overblown, sweeping romance is more my thing. 
> 
> As always, I'd appreciate your thoughts. It is just a one shot so you won't be dragged through numerous chapters!

She really hated her name. Her mother, who had apparently been something of a hippy, believed that her precious dark haired child ought to be named after her two most noticible features--as soon as she came out. Her father had blinked when Bonnie Bright-Smile French had anouced their girl's name, but he did not argue because as soon as the little one opened two startlingly blue eyes, her doting mother started to hemmorhage and had only enough breath, twenty three minutes later, to give her daughter the second name of Blue.

She chose to go by the name of Blue when she turned six, and was glad that Storybooke had such a short memory (no memory at _all,_ really) because in a few months no one but her, Pa and her birth certificate could attest that her name had ever been anything other than Blue French. Some even kindly commented how well it suited her, and how her Mama must have been swept away by her bright big eyes.

Her Father, it turned out, could be easily bribed to keep his mouth shut by being baked a cake every now and then. It even evolved into a rather lovely tradition between them. Blue would present the treat with a mock scowl on her face and her Pa would grin and say 'Well now, Blue darling, I'll keep your dark secret until the next masterpeice. Your Mama would say that I'm going to be more deserving of your first name than you!'

It was mostly true, Blue was an excellent cook and for the twenty years she lived above the shop, her father grew more and more portly. Her birth certificate remained hidden away and she'd even flirted with the manager at Gaston's restaurant, to give her the job as sous chef without even mentioning it to the accounts team.

The time came, however, when that little handwritten peice of paper had to be presented in order for her to sign the lease on her first home. Mr. Gold, who was immune to feminine wiles and manouverings had absolutely refused to do any sort of deal with her without official documentation. It was thus, with trepidation that she handed it over and _waited._

Blue scowled as she watched the landlord execute a classic double take at the document in front of him. His face remained mostly impassive but the twitch in his jaw and the unholy gleam in his eye, gave his entirely inappropriate amusement away.

He flicked a considering glance at the area of her body that dear old mummy thought would make an appropriate moniker. Belle bristled. 

'My eyes are up here Mr. Gold.' 

He looked into them, the amusement in his own deepening further.

'So they are, Miss French. Blue. You were aptly named, I think.'

Blue, thrown off guard, stammered out the story behind her naming and was oddly proud, that upon reaching the end of it, the pleasant, business like smile on Mr. Golds face had become almost genuine. 

His reputation had preceededed him. Mr. Gold was not known for his sense of humour, or his social niceties. A smile from him usually indicated that he was going to do something very unpleasant to the person to whom it was directed. A distressing thought occurred to her, what if he _told?_

'Mr. Gold?'

'Yes?'

'I was thinking. I bake Dad cakes.'

He looked perplexed for a moment and slightly bored. 'Yes, dearie? It isn't expressly forbidden in your lease.'

She laughed, nervously. 'No. I mean yes, I know, but that's not what I meant. I bake my Dad cakes so that he doesn't _tell_ anyone.'

Mr. Gold's brow cleared. 'Oh.' He considered her for a moment. 'Are you any good?'

She lifted her chin. 'Yes. Very.'

He leant forward. 'I'll tell you what, Miss French. I'll make you a deal. You bake me a cake, any cake, and if it is out of this world, I will not mention to a single soul what is written on this peice of paper.'

Blue nodded once. She was fascinated by the way his entire face lit up at the prospect of a deal, his eyes shining with a light that bordered on mania. A thought, startling in its absurdity, was forming in her brain and she said goodbye to the most feared man in Storybrooke with a merry grin, hovering about her mouth.

Three days later, she called in at the pawn brokers shop clutching a bright green cake tin. She'd had to buy some of the ingredients from Jefferson, and goodness only knew where _he_ procured them from.

The bell clanged on the door as it closed behind her and Mr. Gold, who had donned an apron and work sleeves, appeared from the back of the shop. He eyed the cake tin with disfavour, the garish green looked out of place in the expensive, woody tones of his shop. 

He lifted the lid. 'Chocolate brownie?'

'Yes. Sort of. I don't divulge my recipies I'm afraid, Mr. Gold.'

He looked impatient and waved her away. 'I wasn't after your trade secrets, Miss French, just a general description. I'll let you get on shall I? You must be terribly busy preparing to move into the flat next week. Good evening, dearie. I'll give this due consideration.' He picked up the tin again and watched her edge out of his shop. 

Blue picked up speed after crossing the street and ran all the way home. She could not _believe_ she had pulled that prank! She spent the rest of the evening packing up her belongings, trying very hard not to worry about what kind of evening Mr. Gold was having.

The next morning the metal tip of a cane prevented her from passing through the door into Gaston's restaurant. Mr. Gold, wearing a inscruitable smile and dark glasses, had blocked her path. Belle tried on a brave smile.

'That was quite some cake you baked me, Miss French. I had the Mayor and Sheriff Graham round for tea last night. Imagine my surprise when they took a slice and divulged the most _remarkable_ things. I, of course, refrained from trying some, I thought perhaps that your eggs might not have been the freshest.'

Blue's mouth dropped open. 'D-did Regina _Mills_ eat your cake?!'

He smiled blandly. 'Yes. All of it. She's really quite garralous when she gets going. Graham was shocked and has left town in disappointment.'

Blue quaked. He looked cheery. 'I-I'm very sorry, Mr. Gold.'

He giggled and she shrank away from him. 'Oh? No need, Miss French. I did, after, order a cake that was out of this world and a space cake more than fills that quota. As it turns out, Madam Mill's little trip proved very enlightening. I'm content to keep to our deal.' He leant forward and whispered in her ear, 'A word of warning, dearie. If you ever attempt to pull a prank like that on me again, you'll not like the consequenes.'

Blue nodded. Eyes wide. Gold raised his cane in a farewell gesture and limped off down the road.

Blue watched him go, releasing the breath she'd been holding. All in all, that might have gone much worse. _What in the world had she been thinking?!_

A few weeks later, during which Blue and Mr. Gold played cat and mouse-- Blue avoiding him like the plague and Gold taking delight in snidely recommending her cooking to anyone within earshot-- the strangest things started happening in Storybrooke. 

Little Henry Mills had apparently gone off adventuring, bringing back his birth mother. Blue thought idly that he was a lucky kid, having two mothers, when some people didn't have any. Regina Mills and Emma Swan didn't see it that way, obviously. The two were at each others throats in the most civil was possible. It was all very tense.

Blue had been talking to Emma outside the cafe, when Mr. Gold stepped out of it carrying a thick paper cup. He stopped to say hello to Blue; which of course meant he had to be introduced to Storybrooke's newest resident. 

That was when the first strange thing happened. As soon as the words, 'and this is Emma Swan.' left Blue's mouth Mr. Gold face changed colour and his whole body tensed. Emma Swan may not have noticed it, but Blue, who was standing quite close to him saw quite clearly. She worried he was having a heart attack for a moment and reached out a hand to steady him. That was when he rested his arm about her shoulder, leaning heavily on Blue. She was glad that he wasn't a larger man.

She was about to ask him if he was alright when he looked down at her, for all the world like he'd never seen her before. The light in his eyes, coupled with the blank confusion on his face was unsettling. Maybe he was having a stroke, poor man, she should call an ambulance or...

'Bel--'

 _'Gold!'_ she snapped, cutting him off before he could complete that awful trechery.

He blinked and looked wounded, like she'd rejected him. He recovered himself and said with a semblence of calm, 'Yes. Well. Welcome to Storybrooke...Emma.' He made no effort to remove his arm from around Blue's shoulders and it was clearly a dismissal for the blonde newcomer. She smiled and stepped past them into the cafe.  
Belle flung his arm off and rounded on him. 'What was _that?'_ she hissed, 'You were about to tell her my name! _Why?'_

She wasn't sure why she felt so betrayed. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd been reported to have never broken a deal, or even that she'd actually come to like the dour little scot in the last few weeks. He was looking blankly at her, his fingers trembling, like he wanted to grab her.

'My apologies, dearie. I must have had a funny turn. No wonder, this tea is awful.' It wasn't said with the right amount of asperity and she knew he hadn't even tasted the drink.

He did look wobbly though, so she slipped an arm around his waist and gently supported him back to his shop. On the way, she caught sight of her Pa, standing open mouthed across the street, clearly aghast that she appeared to be _cuddling_ a man older than himself.

She blushed deeply. This was going to take some explaining. 

Once in the shop, Gold seemed to recover himself a little and sunk into a chair.

'Thank you, my dear. That was gracious, especially so, given that I've wronged you.'  
He spoke quietly, seriously and without the faint sarcasm that usually coloured his conversation. 

Blue shrugged. 'It's ok. You aren't well. You didn't completely betray me anyhow.' She meant to make him smirk but instead he winced. She tried again.

'You could always tell me your name, you know. It can't be as awful as mine and then we'd be even.'

He looked at her and managed a whisper of a laugh, heavy with an irony that she did not understand. He laid a hand on the skin at the side of her neck. His hand was warm.

'I'll make you a deal. You _guess_ my name and I'll tell you if you're right. Come and have dinner with me for three evenings.' His voice was lilting and playful, which Blue had not heard from him before. It suited him. 'You can have three guesses per meal.'

Blue smiled mischeviously. 'I'll bring cake.'

___

She couldn't guess his name of course, but she'd had a lovely set of dinners with him. It seemed natural to just continue seeing him. One day he kissed her, and that seemed natural too. She, some weeks later, was the first to declare that she loved him and his response was everything she could have dreamed of.

Yet more time passed in Storybrooke and the Gold's were cosied up together in front of a roaring fire. Blue was turned to the flames and her husband's warm hands carressed the bump that came as a consequence of being six months along in pregnancy.

Gold dropped a kiss on his wifes hair. It had been a frantic day, he'd been cornered by two terrified mothers, joining forces to save their Henry, who had eaten a poisoned apple turnover and even now, lay in hospital. Blue had fretted all day and was exhausted as a consequence.

His hands continued their rhythmic sweeping over her tummy, over their child.

'You know, my dear. I think your mother had a great deal of foresight in naming you. It really _is_ lovely.' A soft snore was all the answer that greeted him. He smiled. 'I do love you, Belly Blue Gold.'


End file.
